Titanomachy
by Superhero Flying Llama Barista
Summary: AU: Struggling after the loss of the Poseidon Oil Rig, which was destroyed by the so called 'Chosen One', the Enclave is trying to carve out a power base in the icy tundra's of Alaska, Canada & the Yukon. Follow the story of one Major (MAJ.) William McCoy & his squad - Sigma (Σ) Squad No. 23. - as they uncover secrets from before the War, & after it. Rated M to be safe.


**A/N: This is my 1****st**** story on , & this 1****st**** chapter is just a prologue to give you some background information. **

**I've left multiple little references to games in the series, such as Fallout 2, Fallout 3 & Fallout: New Vegas, but they're easy to find, if you think about it.**

**Also, I've left multiple little references to the Titans, the elder Greek gods & the predecessors to their children, the Olympian gods, who overthrew their parents in an event called Titanomachy, the namesake of this story.**

**If you want to review, review, but please review honestly, critiquing parts so that it can help me improve my writing. If you just want to leave your opinion, then write it down, good or bad, & I'll make sure to read it, no matter how long it takes.**

**:) **

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POSEIDONET v.4.0.7 CURRENT DATE:7/2/2243

(SEVENTH OF FEBRUARY, 2243)

[CONNECTING...]

[CONNECTING...]

[DECYPHERYING ENCRYPTED USER IDENTIFICATION]

[**IDENTIFICATION **_**VERIFIED**_]

IDENTIFICATION:

_MAJOR (MAJ) WILLIAM McCOY _

_BORN EIGHTH OF AUGUST, 2209 (8/8/2209)_

_AGE: 33_

_SQUAD LEADER – __SIGMA__(__Σ) CLASS SQUAD- No. TWENTY THREE (23)_

_DESIGNATION: Σ-1 (SIGMA 1) __OR 'ORCA 1'_

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[WELCOME TO **ENCLAVE** SIGMA (Σ) COMMAND]

[SEARCH: 'OPERATION: ESCAPE FROM TARTARUS']

[SEARCHING...]

[PLEASE ENTER SIGMA (Σ) ACCESS CODE FOR FURTHER VERIFICATION]

[ENTER THE TWENTY-FOUR (24) CHARACTER ACCESS CODE:

[~●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●~]

[**IDENTIFICATION **_**VERIFIED**_]

[DISPLAYING CURRENT 'TS' DATA ABOUT 'OPERATION: ESACAPE FROM TARTARUS']

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**[\\\**ALERT: SENSITIVE COMPARTMENTED INFORMATION (SCI) CLEARANCES REQUIRED TO VIEW ALL DATA.**/]**

**[\\\**_CURRENT USER DOES NOT POSSESS SUCH CLEARANCES._**/]**

**[\\\**INFORMATION ABOVE CURRENT USER CLEARANCE LEVEL WILL BE PRESENTED WITH _**[DATA REDACTED].**_**/]**

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**'OPERATION: ESCAPE FROM TARTARUS'**

**CONTINGENCY PLAN**

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:

EVACUATION OF ALL ASSETS FUNDAMENTAL TO CONTINUED **ENCLAVE **EXISTENCE AND FUNCTIONING. THESE INCLUDE THE PRESIDENT & THE VICE PRESIDENT, (BOTH OF WHICH ARE TO BE CONSIDERED OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE), ALL MEMBERS OF THE PRESIDENTIAL CABINET, ALL JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF, THE DIRECTOR OF THE UNITED STATES SECRET SERVICE, AND ANY OTHERS DEEMED PARAMOUNT. A FULL LIST CAN BE SENT TO YOU OVER POSEIDONET, ICLUDING ALL PAST LISTS & THE CURRENT LIST, TO A CERTAIN EXTENT.

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SECONDARY OBJECTIVES: 

ENSURE THE CONTINUED TECHNELOGICAL SUPERIORITY OF **ENCLAVE** ASSETS, SPECIFICALLY MILITARY & SCIENTIFIC NEEDS

ENSURE THE CONTINUED & EFFICIENT MANUFACTURING PROCESSES IN ORDER TO OUTFIT ALL ARMAMENTS AND ARMOUR OR ARMOURED SYSTEMS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE SOLDIER, AS WELL AS THE CONTINUED PRODUCTION OF EXTREMELY HIGH QUALITY, LOW MAINTENANCE EQUIPMENT, USED PREDOMINANTLY IN CURRENT **ENCLAVE** LABORITORIES, OR STORED WITHIN DERELICT, ABANDONED PRE-WAR UNITED STATES FACILITIES, SUCH AS AT THE GOVERNMENT FUNDED PRIVATE THINK TANK LOCATED AT _**[DATA REDACTED]**_.

[**ADDENDUM**: CURRENTLY, VIDEO COMMUNICATION WITH _**[DATA REDACTED]**_ HAS PROVEN TO BE UNSUCCESSFUL AT THE TIME THIS WAS WRITTEN 9/1/2243. HOWEVER, DUE TO USING **ENCLAVE** 'BACK-DOOR CODES', OUR COMPUTER TECHNICHIANS HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DETERMINE THE SUUCESSFUL CREATION OF **'PROJECT: CAZADORE'** & **'PROJECT: NIGHTSALKER'**. FURTHERMORE, TECHNICHIANS HAVE LEARNT FROM DIGITAL REPORTS FROM _**[DATA REDACTED] **_THAT BOTH PROJECTS HAVE ACHIEVED SUSTAINABILITY, & DUE TO THE INHERENT PREDATORY NATURE IN BOTH PROJECTS, WE PREDICT THEY WILL CONTINUE TO EXPAND FURTHER INTO 'THE WASTELAND', INTO THE MOJAVE DESERT REGION. THEY ARE EXPECTED TO THRIVE THERE.]

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[INCOMING MESSAGE FROM **ENCLAVE** SIGMA (Σ) COMMAND]

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**[\\\**ALERT: ALL **ENCLAVE **SIGMA (Σ)PERSONNEL, PLEASE REPORT TO CONFERENCE ROOM 3A FOR BRIEFING ON NEWEST MISSION.**/]**

**[\\\**NEWEST MISSION WILL TAKE PLACE IN ANCHORAGE, ALASKA.**/]**

**[\\\**TRANSPORTATION WILL BE BY MULTIPLE VB-02 VTOL 'VERTIBIRDS' & WILL BE LEAVING FROM UNIMAK ISLAND BUNKER ALPHA (Α).**/]**

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[LOGGING OFF USER...]

POSEIDONET v.4.0.7

[LOG-IN:_]

[POSEIDONET USER ID PASSWORD:_]

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Sat in a dusty, old leather seat, smelling like the ash from which it was extracted from, sits Major William McCoy. Exfiltrating from the unhealthy green glow of the computer terminal, Major William McCoy stands from the chair as it releases a squeak, similar in pitch to a small rodent's. With precise, fluid movements, he's quickly in his form fitting pitch black **Enclave **bodysuit, decorated with the prestigious logo of the government he unwaveringly serves. Accompanied by the black, nearly knee high combat boots, & a hat that hugs his head as tightly as if a new-born babe, he looks quite the sight.

But he's not done yet.

Gracefully, as if a ballerina, he slides the knife-proof, bullet-proof, kevlar vest over the bodysuit, attaching it elegantly into the designated grooved areas of the bodysuit.

His face is sculpted like _granite, _resilient, tough, just like the mindset inside this fleshy, pink shell, & that of his metallic/ceramic composite exoskeleton, which, when worn, gives the illusion of an imposing gargantuan insectoid or avian creature, rather than a man in armour. Dark brown hair trimmed into a buzz cut, a strong jawline & a slightly out-of-place nose all give the impression that this is a trained killer, honed to perfection both on the battlefield, & off, due to his _Promethean_ tactical mind. 

_Michelangelo, eat your heart out._

Cerulean hurricanes surround the _eye_ of the storm, small black holes in the centre; they act as conduits into this man's soul - if one looks closely enough, they can observe the fact that his eyes have seen more than their fair share of wanton destruction – most of it caused by _him_.

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_THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD._

Quickly, he marches out of the room, into the corridor outside his officer's quarters, & starts to make his way to conference room 3A. Sounding like the tin-man with each step, his boots hit the sterilised steel floor aggressively, creating a ridiculously ear-shattering & obnoxious sound of clanging metal; unfortunately, this grating noise was soon overwhelmed by a cacophony of deafening alarm bells, which also brought along blinding amber demons, rotating on the wall, taunting the inhabitants to heed their warning. 

Needless to say, heed it, he did. 

People transformed into unrecognisable blurs as William raced down the metal corridor, akin to a train speeding through a metro tunnel, or a bullet, hurtling down the barrel of a firearm - an outdated method of killing foes, but effective. Scanning the wall for any sign of the luminous, phosphorescent blue text that spelt out 'Conference Room 3A' among others so similar, was a hard, annoying task, but completed nevertheless.

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Sanctuary at last. 

The steel door rose when greeted, allowing William to enter into a large square room, consisting of a holographic projector, with a built-in circular table, flanked by office chairs not too different from his own in his private officer's quarters. 

All chairs turned to face him, looking upon him as if a jury was sentencing him in court. Luckily for him, no verbal abuse pertaining to something along the lines of ,'You're late. _**Again**_.', happened to be spewed forth like fire or venom from a cobra, from the officers in the room. He was sure under that helmet of his, Jonathan was grinning, that smug, condescending bastard. Instead, a man of average height in an Army Service Uniform (ASU) befitting a General approached him, with confident, assured strides. Despite being one of the shortest people in the room, (yet still at average height in the **Enclave**), he exuded authority in a massive aura, meaning all eyes of his subordinates were upon him, as he walked over to Major (MAJ.) McCoy. 

Speaking with a slight Southern drawl in a terse manner, yet still sounding like a warm, caring father to McCoy, he stated, 'Welcome back.' whilst reaching up & giving off a strong handshake, it's strength compounded by the fact that, he too, was a former **Enclave** Sigma (Σ) field officer & squad leader, who had trained rigorously before climbing up the ranks to 4-Star General (GEN.) of the **Enclave**. 

He led McCoy to a chair, sat him down upon it, & activated the holographic projector, which, simultaneously dimmed the overhead lights in the room, sparing the emergency & exit lights situated in the room. 

A large spinning, 3D globe appeared, composed of an iridescent blue, spattered with small little green E's in Alaska (their current location), Washington D.C, Chicago, & other places throughout the 13 contiguous United States Commonwealths, or rather, 13 _former _contiguous United States Commonwealths, now classified by it's intelligent denizens, 'The Wasteland'. 

'Here's the mission.' the General stated.

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**A/N: Well, there you go! Hope you like it.**

**I'll try to update it as frequently as possible, when I get the time, of course. But, as said above, tell me your honest opinion, good or bad, & if at all possible, give me some tips on how I can improve my writing style, story, whatever.**

**Seen you next time!**

**:)**


End file.
